The Holy Grail
by urfriendlyneighborhoodpan
Summary: They're gonna fight, people gonna die, it's gonna be great. (Fate/Zero crossover)
1. Chapter 1

**A.U. : I'm literally just throwing all my favorite characters into hell.**

 **I do not own _Bleach_.**

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Prologue

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There was a ripple a split second before the barrier shattered, and with a thundering roar a massive beast came charging toward them. The night cast them in darkness but she could make out a pair of red eyes burning from his disfigured face. The nostrils seemed to flare just like that of a bull's and he kicked up a storm of rubble underneath his bare feet. Every spell cast was dodged effortlessly and yet she felt no fear in her heart.

She had witnessed his terror before, how he crushed everything in his path without prejudice. How he showed no mercy to all but the tiny girl perched on his back.

In a flurry, she was swept up and transferred onto the rooftops where she could be safer. Bursts of blue and yellow light shot from her companion's fingertips and the carefully cobbled ground was reduced to charred earth. But from the smoke the monster leaped, claws drawn and ready to slice them both apart. Spheres of all sizes red as blood manifested around them, exploded into razor sharp blades as soon as he came into contact. Before she, too, could be destroyed by the mere force, she was again carried from the scene and into the woods where there would be more to obstruct his path.

"We've little time, Master," her companion rasped, urging her deeper into the trees. "Please, save yourself."

"I refuse," she said, steadfast. "I'd rather die right here than abandon you now."

"You are truly the noble of us two," her companion replied, voice tight. "I cannot allow your life to go to waste."

Before she could protest, she was enveloped in a thick white cloud, voice choked right out of her. When it cleared she was standing in front of the church, miles away.

An ear-splitting howl shattered the calm and she clutched her burning wrist to her chest, squeezing her eyes shut and doubling over.

* * *

.x.

* * *

"I'm surprised," the overseer said as soon as she set foot inside the church. "You're the last person I'd expect to see here."

"Am I the first to seek refuge?" she asked, making her way down the aisle toward the first pew.

"You are indeed. Might I say, you're preferable company." He waited until she reached the front row to add, "Although I suppose you might feel different."

"I'm in no mood for a reunion," she admitted, sitting herself down with a sigh. "My servant had been a valuable one."

"I'd heard the Caster this time around had a rather interesting story," he agreed. "Why, if she had not been a Caster, she might have done well as Saber. You don't come across that too often, a mage with combat skills."

She turned her hand over to watch the seals fade from her wrist, the burn gradually dulling. She let the silence stretch between them, scratching at her skin with her other hand lightly.

"I don't mean to pry," he said carefully, as if stepping on eggshells, "but may I know what your wish was?"

She sighed, dropping her head.

The candles behind him flickered for a moment.

"You know damn well what my wish was."

* * *

.x.

* * *

The girl was only eighteen, a promising student with too much life ahead of her. Seeing those detestable marks on the back of her delicate hand was enough to bring bile to the throat. Twenty years it'd been since the last war and Yoruichi had allowed her guard down, had never once foreseen this terribly ironic twist of fate. And how foolish of her not to, the Grail chose those who were most worthy, and she could not think of a single person more so than her apprentice.

"I'd been your age," she told her student, fingers tightening around her arm enough to whiten the skin, only letting go when the girl flinched. "It is…quite the honor."

The girl's face brightened, and Yoruichi could almost feel herself melt at the sheer brilliance. "I won't disappoint," she vowed, determination bright in her eyes.

"I trust you won't," Yoruichi said, ignoring the flip in her stomach.

As she watched her apprentice depart for home, she scratched absently at her wrist.

There was a familiar burn on her skin.

* * *

.x.

* * *

 **A.U.** **: There's gonna be a lot of characters in this.**

 **I'll update when I can, review please.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A.N.** **: Hope nothing is too confusing so far.**

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Orihime's right hand felt heavier with each day that passed, and although it had been explained to her that the seals could appear at any time before the war, she still felt as though it would spring up on her at any moment. It motivated her to begin her preparations early, clearing out a large space in her bedroom and spending long nights rereading the same texts in order to better familiarize herself with the ritual. As soon as she was warned the day was soon upon them, she drew the circle on her floor and watched the clock for midnight, when her circuits were at their finest.

The seals began to burn a little the closer her time came, and she quietly considered taking up the catalyst she'd been given.

"I'll leave it up to fate," she said to herself, straightening and shutting her eyes to begin the incantations. She had set up her thickest curtains and drawn them shut at every window in her apartment, soundproofed her walls with a spell to mask the noises that would surely come with the summoning, and cleared any breakable objects from their shelves. The impact would be great, that much was certain.

When her call was answered, the ground seemed to nearly shake her off her very feet. As she caught herself, she wondered if her barrier would hold.

Smoke lifted from the circle and at its center a tall figure rose to face her. He was dressed in all black, a lean man with strangely colored hair. He brushed himself off, dark brown eyes darting around the room before landing on her.

"Are you my master?" was the first thing he said.

* * *

.x.

* * *

"Well, I was hoping for the Saber class but I suppose you'll do," he murmured, waiting for the air to clear. It hissed and clouded his vision for a second, but he never took his eyes off the figure unfolding from the ground. "Archer."

A woman, which might have disappointed most but he could hardly deign to do the same; if she was here, it was for a reason. She was undeniably feminine, with long flowing locks that curled prettily at the ends. She had doe eyes and full lips and was dressed too girlish for his taste, and it all amounted to a deceptively innocent appearance.

"Tell me your name," he said once the room had settled. "I want to know what I'm working with."

"If you'd tell me yours first," she said in a terribly sweet voice, "I would be more than happy to."

He smiled.

* * *

.x.

* * *

"Why didn't you use the catalyst I gave you?" her teacher questioned, circling around her servant. He eyed them just as skeptically, arms folded tight against himself.

"Does it truly matter? The Saber class is the strongest, I thought this was good news," Orihime argued, stepping toward her servant. "It was most accidental, but I think luck is on our side."

"You were supposed to summon Lancer," her teacher sighed, forehead pinched. "This will certainly throw a wrench in things."

"Do you…not believe me capable?" Orihime asked, bringing her marked hand against her chest. "I can assure you he and I have come to an agreement, I have faith we are compatible."

Her servant looked between them, but thankfully remained silent.

"Of course I do," her teacher reassured with a sigh. "But the Saber class is absolutely the most coveted of them all, this will put you at unnecessary risk."

"I vowed to protect my master through any means necessary," her servant finally said, shoulders squared. "I will defend her to my dying breath."

"Honorable, just as a Saber should be," her teacher mused. "Very well, I'll leave her in your capable hands. But should harm come her way, I _will_ hold you responsible."

"I would hope you would," he replied with a nod.

* * *

.x.

* * *

The training grounds was completely destroyed. The floor was cracked, practically rubble, and most of the trees in the area had been uprooted. Countless arrows, all glowing hot and bright, were scattered all around him, some even mere centimeters from piercing him. She landed light on her feet before him, not a speck of dirt to sully her pristine uniform. When she straightened, her eyes locked on his and he almost fell back a step.

"I'm impressed," he said, as he spoke the arrows began to dissolve before him. "Your prowess with a bow is remarkable enough, but your physical strength is extraordinary."

With a few incantations, he reverted the appearance of the training grounds back to how it'd been. She cast aside her weapon and bowed almost theatrically, long hair falling across her shoulders.

"I thank you, my master," she replied. "You flatter me."

"I fear we might make quite the pair," he continued, turning and gesturing her to follow him. "One has to wonder, if the Archer is this strong, what of the others?"

* * *

.x.

* * *

Yoruichi clutched at her wrist, back pressed to the wall of her basement and teeth grit tight enough to hurt. It was burning terribly, and the bruise that had appeared on her dark skin just days ago was beginning to look like something else entirely.

"No," she growled, scratching hard. " _No_."

But she could do nothing to stop it, even without a circle the Grail would find a way. And as welts began to form under the nail of her thumb, a light began to emit from the very walls around her. The drop of blood met the ground, and that was all the catalyst it needed.

The air swirled violently around her, whipped against her face and arms, and then shrunk in on itself, tighter and tighter until it was suddenly no more.

In its place, a small and lithe figure knelt in a respectful bow, head low.

"My master," they said, and Yoruichi felt her heart drop down to her feet.

* * *

.x.

* * *

 **A.U.** **: Yeah, I'm not gonna describe every summoning. Keeping some things a secret.**

 **I'll update when I can, review please.**


	3. Chapter 3

"Two masters have not yet been chosen," she informed him, joining him on the sofa. "It appears all but the caster and lancer class have been summoned. No alliances seem to have been formed."

"It's still too early to, the war will not begin until all seven masters and servants are in play. But perhaps jumping the gun's not a bad idea."

She folded her hands primly on her lap. "I do believe Saber would be the best choice."

"Normally I would agree," he said, leaning back and stretching his arms along the back of the sofa. He extended his long legs under the coffee table with a sigh. "But we'll need someone who will be loyal, and by extension almost completely dependent on us. The saber class will serve none but their master, and any their master deems worthy. We've no guarantee Saber's master will be agreeable."

"By that logic, we've no guarantee _any_ master will be agreeable."

"Right you are. The odds are in our favor, however. Since there is a shortage of mages participating, the Grail will choose at random. These last two masters may or may not even _be_ proper mages."

"I see," she said, sitting straight. "You want to take advantage of their ignorance."

"The trick is finding who of the two will be easiest to manipulate. If Lancer's, you can easily subdue them should they choose to turn against us. And with your strong magic resistance, Caster will hardly have any effect on you." He tilted his head to the side as she glanced at him over her shoulder. "Either class will be beneficial toward us."

"Caster is considered the weakest," Archer pointed out, turning to face him better. "And three out of the seven classes has resistance. One of which is up for grabs."

"Siding with Lancer would appear to be the smarter choice," he allowed. "But in letting them close to us, we give greater openings. Sooner or later, we'll have to face off anyway. Caster would be easier to do away with once things get going, but until then they'll do well in terms of defense."

"You are thinking long term," she said, lips pouting in thought. "And what will we do with the master?"

"Nothing at all," he replied.

* * *

.x.

* * *

"It was rather kind of your teacher to lend us currency," Ichigo commented, looking away as she tucked away the bills into a strange looking coin purse; it was reminiscent of a floppy-eared pup. "We will have to repay her soon."

"We will," Orihime agreed, trying very hard to ignore the stares they were getting. "As guilty as it makes me feel, though, we're going to have to use it immediately. Since you can't go into spirit form, we'll need to get you some clothes so you can blend in easier."

"Am I not properly dressed for this day and age?" he asked, and then considered it for a moment. "Well, truly no lady in my time would dress in the manner you have."

Orihime looked down, face burning inexplicably. The hem of her skirt reached mid-calf but that might have been scandalous when he was alive. Her shirt was long-sleeved and had a low collar at the front, but her cleavage was hidden by the tank top underneath. Her shoes were practical, she had assumed she'd been dressed nicely today. "Things have changed."

"Indeed they have. By my observations, you appear to be one of the more modestly dressed. And by this distinction, I've insulted your honor as a lady. Forgive my disrespect."

"It's fine," she waved off. "The standards are different. The state of someone's appearance is of less importance. My dressing modestly does not make me any more of a lady than the next person."

"I admire your sensibilities, mistress," he commended.

"Ah, I wanted to bring this up later but I guess now's as good a time as ever. I'd like for you to call me by my given name, at least when we're alone." She rethought her words and quickly added, "I mean, when we're not around other masters or servants!"

His brow furrowed. "I could never."

"Would it help if I did the same?"

He shook his head. "It would be the greatest disrespect on my part. Allow me to refer to you by family name, if we cannot come to a better agreement."

"That's perfectly fine," she smiled.

* * *

.x.

* * *

Yoruichi paced the room, dragging her fingers through her hair. She had spent the entire night reviewing the texts and brushing up on her skills. It had been years since she'd last practiced magic in all seriousness and it showed. The finesse was gone, her finely tuned control reduced to a mere shadow of what it'd been. Hours she'd spent relearning herself and she'd nearly drained her energy completely. It wasn't until her servant appeared at her side with a glass of water that she realized how deep her exhaustion ran.

"You must rest now, Master," her servant advised. "You have done splendid today."

The servant was shorter than she, a girl just brushing adulthood, with a build not unlike that of a bird's; delicate and thin. The skin was pale and the hair black as ink, eyes narrow and dark. The clothing was unmistakable, black and comfortable and well fitted.

It made Yoruichi wonder at the life she'd led before her untimely death.

She handed the glass back and began to put away her books, deciding to call it a day. "Servants aren't usually this doting," Yoruichi said. "And I thought I told you not to call me that."

"Forgive me, Master, but I cannot follow that order," her servant bowed low. "I am not worthy of such an honor, but please call me as you please."

"Soi Fon," Yoruichi rolled about her tongue, and then reached up to knot up her hair. "I rather like that name."

"Thank you," Soi Fon murmured, keeping her eyes downcast.

"Know this, Soi Fon," Yoruichi said, turning and crossing the room toward the desk, where weathered papers were strewn haphazardly as if abandoned there. "I have absolutely no interest in the Grail, and therefore no interest in participating in this war. Whether we win or lose is of no importance to me."

"If I may be so brash, why are you practicing then, Master?"

"I am of the firm belief that one must always be prepared for the absolute worst."

"What were to happen if we do win? Do you not have a wish?"

Yoruichi flattened her hand over the papers, watching her fingers spread slowly. "We'll leave that up to fate."

* * *

.x.

* * *

"You mean to tell me," the woman said with a tightly irritated tone, "that your summoning me was an _accident_?"

"Look, lady, I don't know anything about all this 'summoning' bullshit. I saw the fucking circle and it reminded me of some cult shit. So, I let some of my blood on it to fuck around. I didn't actually think something would come of it."

The man could not have been much older than twenty. His hair was painted a strange color and he had a handful of tattoos across his body, from his arms to his knuckles to the area behind his left ear and who knew where else. He was tall and ruggedly attractive and he screamed of irresponsibility.

She could not find it in her to _not_ believe his story.

"You don't _look_ like a demon," he muttered, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets.

The area was absolutely disgusting. The ground was hard packed dirt the color of coffee grains and it was scattered with trash and shattered glass, the air smelling repugnant and sour. There was a single platform made of cement that was unexplainable, and on its surface was the very circle he'd summoned her with. To her right, some odd yards away, were a set of train tracks. To her left, a wired fence where beyond lied a thick forest.

"That is because I am not a demon," she stated, chin high. "I am Nelliel Tu Oderschvank."

She held out her hand and from thin air a spear manifested in her grip. He stumbled back in surprise as she spun it on her fingertips, righting it to stab into the ground. It was taller than she.

"I am of the lancer class in this Holy Grail War."

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.x.

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 **A.N.** **: I'm not naming (or describing) certain people for a reason. Just take wild guesses at who's who, it's fun.**

 **I'll update soon.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A.N.** **: I'm trying to make these chapters a little longer.**

* * *

"The game is set."

Archer materialized across the room, sitting with legs crossed in the armchair. In the darkness, she seemed almost eerie. The moonlight slanting through the blinds cast shadows across her soft face, shone silver in her wide eyes. For this reason, he sat up in bed and switched on the bedside lamp.

"The last servant was summoned?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Caster," she provided, folding her hands on her knee. "And you'll be pleased to know their master is rather unimpressive. I dare say almost unworthy of forging an alliance with."

He yawned into his hand, and then fumbled around for his shirt when he noticed her pointedly looking at the headboard rather than him. "I'm surprised it happened this late. It's nearing three in the morning."

"One might argue that is the best time. Have you heard of the witching hour, Master?"

"I was under the impression that took place at midnight. And I'm surprised that's even a real thing." He tugged the sheets from his legs and swung them over the edge of the bed to stand.

"It most certainly is a real thing." She watched him stretch, tucking her chin in. "What would our next course of action be?"

"Reconnaissance. You're the only servant with the ability to roam freely, I want you to take advantage of that." He smoothed down his shirt and then padded over to the bathroom. "I'd prefer we stay out of conflict for as long as possible. Keep an eye on Caster in particular, figure out what we can do there."

"I'd like to watch over Saber as well," she requested, uncrossing her legs and standing.

"Why?" he asked, turning as she approached. She stopped a couple of feet away, looking up at him through her lashes.

"Of all the servants, I am bested only by the saber class. If this one is as good as I am anticipating, I would like to be as informed as possible."

"Way to keep your head straight. Go right ahead."

"And what will you be doing now?"

"Naturally, I'll be going back to sleep after you leave."

* * *

.x.

* * *

The place he called home was little more than a single room with one door for a bathroom, another for a closet, and a narrow kitchenette. It smelled musky, with traces of alcohol. The floor was more aluminum cans and dark colored bottles than floor, dishes piled on the counters, clothing left strewn about at random. He locked the door behind them and moved into the kitchen to open the refrigerator, tossing his keys onto the only clear space of counter.

"You hungry? I ain't got much, but I'm probably getting paid tomorrow—"

"Is this really how you live?" Nelliel asked, picking up a glass bottle to inspect. It was one of the sources of the smell. She heard things being moved around in the refrigerator and turned to look at him. There was something so unsettling about having a master so reckless, knowing that he lived in conditions downright repulsive.

Most of all that he didn't seem to care.

"I don't spend a lot of time here," he said, and at first she did not believe him.

But, plucking up a shirt and finding it surprisingly clean, she found she could not justify why she didn't. There was a fine collection of dust on his scant furnishings, a clean circle left underneath when she pushed aside an empty cup. Even the bed, pushed up against the furthest wall, seemed as if it had rarely ever been slept in. When she sat, the mattress held firm, with the faintest imprint of what could've been his applied weight in the center. Breathing in the air with this revelation, she found it somewhat stale.

"Whether or not you do," she finally replied, "it would do well to take care of your home."

"What are you, my mom?" He straightened to his full height and opened another aluminum can. It popped and hissed and he tipped back his head to take a long gulp. "I only clean up when I have company."

"Is that not what I am?"

"A certain kind of company." He turned on his heel to smirk at her. "Unless—"

"Absolutely not. I am here only for the Grail."

"That reminds me," he sighed, stepping over the mess on the floor and plopping down heavily beside her. The springs squeaked and she bounced a little, quick to slide away and put space between them. "You gotta explain to me what the fuck is going on here, you were pretty damn vague back there."

"And yet you let me into your home? I assumed you understood what I meant."

"Like I'd refuse you," he said, and then finished off his drink to let it join the rest on the floor.

"It's quite a long story, really," she said, doubtful he'd even listen.

He only shrugged in response.

* * *

.x.

* * *

Orihime was wakened by the sound of pots and pans clanging loudly from the kitchen, nearly stumbled out of bed trying to investigate, and found him rifling through the fridge. He'd finally changed into a more casual outfit, over which he wore her favorite apron. The soft pink color and frills looked almost fitting on him.

She stifled a laugh.

"Ah," he noticed her, straightening. "Good morning, Mast—Inoue. I'd hoped to get breakfast going before you woke, was I making too much noise?"

"Not at all," she reassured, waving her hands in the air. "I needed to get up anyway. What are you making?"

"I found some recipes on that device," he said, pointing at her laptop left open on the kitchen table. "I am hoping to make banana pancakes."

"Let me help," she said, moving past him to take out the carton of eggs. "Did you sleep well last night?"

"Wonderfully. I'd spent most of my nights sleeping outdoors, this was quite the improvement."

"Would you mind telling me your story some time? I'm afraid I'm not terribly familiar."

"Of course, M—Inoue." As they began preparing breakfast, he said, in a more serious tone, "We will have to be on our guard now. It won't be long now."

Orihime sprinkled a bit of salt into the bowl before whisking the eggs together. "By now I expect all of the servants have been summoned. I anticipate we'll be attacked soon, if what my said teacher was correct. If not to obtain you, they'll be hell bent on getting rid of you as soon as possible."

"What do you propose we do?"

"Forming an alliance with one of the other masters would be at the top of my list. Even if we do end up having to face each other eventually, it will help to have a friend in the war."

He looked down at the pancake mix, checking the consistency. "I agree with you, but we will have to be very…prudent about our choice. Do you consider yourself a good judge of character?"

"As good as the next person, I'd think. We'll have to leave it to our gut feelings."

Ichigo switched on the stovetop, pouring a small circle of mix at the center of the pan. "I never did ask you what your wish was."

"That's a little complicated," Orihime said, smiling. "I'm afraid you'll consider my wish selfish."

"On some level," he replied wisely, "all wishes are selfish. I cannot possibly judge you for it."

She pulled out another pan to cook the eggs on. "If I tell you mine, will you tell me yours?"

"Of course, M—Inoue."

* * *

.x.

* * *

The first thing to greet him as he slowly roused was the sweet perfume of flowers, entirely unlike anything he'd ever smelled before. It reminded him, for a moment, of rain or spring. It nearly lulled him back to sleep, but his mind was reeling trying to figure out where it was coming from. Against every single protest his body gave, he cracked his eyes opened and forced them to focus.

Her wide eyes blinked back at him, mere inches from his face.

"Fuck!" he shouted, sitting up so fast the room spun. He cradled his head with a hiss.

"Such language," Archer murmured, turning onto her back and stretching out comfortably. She had taken off her boots and was now wiggling her toes underneath her stockings. Her fingers curled into the pillow under her head and then retracted as she relaxed, hands turning palms up.

"Why are you in my bed?" he asked, and then searched around for his shirt again.

She easily plucked it from the nightstand and held it out to him, again averting her gaze from his body until he pulled it on. "You were still sleeping when I returned. I did try to wake you, but you looked so at ease it brought to mind the last time I myself had lied in a bed. I was simply overcome by nostalgia."

"One could get the wrong idea," he sighed, combing his fingers through his tangled hair.

"One needs to remind oneself of the objective," she shot back, and then rolled onto her side to face him, propping her head on her hand. "I could not get a visual of Saber last night, they did not leave their post once."

"It was late, the saber class can't go into spirit form. They were probably sleeping or guarding their master." He scooted away a little and sat back against the headboard. "Anything else?"

"I did see Lancer, although not in great detail. They and their master are located in a rather poor area of the city."

"Didn't I say the Grail chose at random?"

"Ah," she said, pinching a bit of the sheets between her fingers. "The 'players' are scattered widely, it will be hard to predict the first battleground. But I feel it obvious the first will surely include Saber."

"With any luck, they'll be taken out of the war soon. They'll definitely pose a problem if they last till the end."

Her eyes moved slowly when his stomach began to growl. "For now, let us focus on matters closer to home. After you eat, I'll try my hand again."

"Take a break for now. I have a feeling tonight will be eventful."

* * *

.x.

* * *

"My master," Soi Fon spoke from door, kneeling on the ground with her head bowed. "It seems one of the servants is attempting to provoke the rest. I know you said I should remain here, but I am hoping you will allow me to observe."

Yoruichi started, ignoring the sweat dribbling down her temple. "Already? The participants this time around sure are…rash."

Soi Fon remained silent, waiting for her answer.

"If it would put you at ease, you may. Stay out of sight and get out of there as soon as it's done."

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

.x.

* * *

The warehouse district was the last place Orihime figured the first battle to take place. It was dark and poorly lit and she could hardly make out the pair standing yards across from them. The air was cold on her skin, and she regretted not taking Ichigo's advice and wearing a sweater.

"You're the only ones that stepped up," the man called out to them, folding his arms across his chest. She could hear a grin in his voice. "You've got balls, I'll give you that."

"He doesn't seem to have any skill as a mage," Orihime said under her breath. "He's relying solely on his servant for this battle."

"Fine with me," Ichigo replied, setting his jaw. "You'll be safer this way."

"I assume you are Saber," the woman finally spoke up, stepping forward.

"Correct," he said evenly, and his cloak manifested. He unsheathed his swords and stood at the ready. "And you are?"

Her armor was chiefly made of leather, held together by a series of complicated buckles, which protected her torso, thighs, and forearms. Her biceps were bare and her long, wavy hair was let down freely. She shifted, her spear manifesting very suddenly, almost in mid twirl, and she swung it around to rest across her shoulders. "I am Lancer, and might I add quite honored you have answered my challenge. I had hoped I would be able to face you in battle."

"Likewise," he said, lifting his swords.

"Not one to waste time, I see. Very well." The spear spun, as if on its own, around her back and under her arm. It was almost too quick for Orihime to follow, and she could see Lancer's own master back away a little. When it finally came still, Lancer had adjusted her body into a pose, both hands gripping the spear at two different ends and weight leaned forward on one leg.

The spear seemed to glint in the moonlight.

"Shall we?"

* * *

.x.

* * *

 **A.N.** **: I'm not that great at writing action scenes, next chapter might be a little messy 'cause of that.**

 **Thanks for reading, review please.**


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